Donuts & Friends
by FaiKazahaya
Summary: Blackjack is recovering in the stables, feeling quite ready to bash someone's nose in. But guess who comes to take him for a walk? Slight Solangelo.


**Merry Christmas to one and to all a Happy New Year~!**

**So I noticed how no one really saw the relationship between Blackjack and Nico being really cool. I did, because the only other creature to like him had to be Mrs. O'Leary—and she doesn't count, being a hellhound. Blackjack really **_**did not care**_** that Nico was the son of the death god, and **_**did not care**_** that, at the time of transporting the **_**Athena Par-**_**whatever, that the boy was literally leaking death and darkness. He's the only Pegasus that allowed Nico to ride on his back, and actually stood by his side all the while when they first landed. It was a wonder for me. It also showed to me that a Pegasus chooses his rider, like with Guido and Reyna. I personally think that Blackjack chose Nico over Percy, who was obviously already moving on from his life as a hero! And we have never seen Blackjack eat donuts, even though he begs for them ALL THE TIME. Guess how I got my inspiration for this fic.**

**And yes, I should be working on Eye for the Samurai. I just got this idea and it seemed easier to write about so THERE!**

**Slight Solangelo because it's Christmas and stuff.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own them. But if I could, I would make a fanfic about my own story just to spite this site. (Heh, I rhymed.)**

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_Why didn't Boss swear on the Styx to get me out of this place? It's hella bad!_ Blackjack whickered as he paced around in his too-small pen. His wings ached to stretch out and take to the skies, and his hooves itched to run. So why was he being holed up in some stable room when he was obviously alright and dandy?

It was those children of the sun dude, he was certain of it. They had something against him. His wound had already closed and was almost healed over and yet they insisted in wrapping him up like some kind of feathery mummy when all there was left of the wound was that blasted arrow hole that was already flippin' _healed_, for Hade's sake!

With a snort, Blackjack plopped onto his freshly made bed of hay and gave a deep belly-sigh. There was no use in whinnying for his boss and wasting his strength. He would just have to wait for someone to stop by so he could knock them in the face the moment they walked through the stable door.

Blackjack shook his head and buried it in hay, groaning softly in aggravation.

Surprisingly, that was when someone decided to pay him a visit.

The footsteps were light and quick, tapping through the stable and halting every now and then for the figure that grew ever nearer to look into the pen, shake its head, and move on to the next. As it grew closer and closer to the Pegasus, he rose to his hooves and shook the hay from his mane.

Blackjack stuck his nose out of the stable the moment the figure looked in, and bashed their heads together. The figure—male according to the tone in the string of curses flying from his mouth—held his nose and glared up at Blackjack until he realized who he was looking at. By then, Blackjack was shocked to see the familiar face in front of him. Who, by all means, would never have gone to visit him if he had been wounded in any other war.

"Blackjack!" Nico di Angelo whispered, voice laced with the pain from his nose and the pleasure of seeing his friend.

Blackjack hummed in reply, shifting from foot to foot anxiously. _If you're here to get me out of this hellhole—by all means, please do!_ He whinnied softly but pleadingly.

Nico opened the door to the stall as if hearing the unspoken request. "Come on," he whispered, finally drawing his hand from his nose. At least it wasn't broken or bleeding. He edged out of the doorway to allow the Pegasus room to exit. "I want to show you something."

The black Pegasus gladly left the dreaded stall, shaking out his wings with a pleasant sound.

Nico's lips quirked upward at the action, but he remained silent as he snuck Blackjack out of the stables. He placed a hand to Blackjack's neck, and the Pegasus fought a shiver that threatened to rise. By Zeus and Hades and all gods known to demigods—had the kid always been this _cold_?

But the darkness Blackjack had sensed in the son of Hades' body had dimmed somewhat. There was at least that much. Maybe those damned sons and daughters of the sun dude had done _one_ thing right.

Nico led Blackjack into the forest, and stopped him at Zeus' fist. "Here," Nico said, reaching into his new aviator jacket—Blackjack remembered vaguely the Roman leader and the kid's sister going out to get him that, murmuring between each other as they mounted Guido outside the stables about what sort of material it should be made out of and whatnot—and pulled out a medium-sized box. The son of Hades set it on a stone high enough to reach the boy's waist.

Blackjack sniffed and looked at Nico.

The boy grimaced. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm not clarifying." He flipped open the box and immediately Blackjack's mouth watered. _Donuts_. "There's glazed, chocolate and jelly-filled. I didn't know what you liked, so I…" Nico's voice faltered, and he had a stare down with his boot as it scuffed the ground. He clamped his mouth shut as his cheeks tinged pink.

Gingerly, Blackjack took a bite from the nearest chocolate donut and grumbled happily. He lifted his head and offered a piece of his donut to the boy, who just continued his staring contest with the ground.

Blackjack whacked him over the head with his wing.

"Ow!" he yelped, holding his head in shock. "Dude, I know I'm being entirely stupid and everything right now, but I got the Stolls to smuggle in those and I remembered how Percy said you loved donuts and so I just thought—"

Blackjack cuffed him over the head again, this time gentler. He took a donut in his teeth and offered it to the boy.

Flushing even darker than before, Nico ripped off a piece of the offered donut and stuffed it in his mouth. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Blackjack hummed in amusement, chewing. He savored each sweet mouthful with the son of Hades, now lying on a bed of grass with the sun shining down on him. The boy was leaning slightly against his wing, the half-full box sitting in his lap.

Nico popped another piece in his mouth, but the earlier vigor of his eating had left him. He seemed lost in thought, chewing almost robotically.

Blackjack snorted and bumped his nose against the demigod's side.

"Sorry," he mumbled again for the tenth time already. "It's just…I promised this son of Apollo that I'd stay in the infirmary for three days, and I barely made two. I had to just _get out_ and stretch my legs, you know? So when the Stoll brothers came in with these boxes of donuts, I saw my opportunity. I snuck out a window when Will wasn't looking and made a break for your stable." Nico gazed blankly into the distance. "I wonder if he's looking for me right now…"

Blackjack rolled his eyes and bumped his nose against the skinny boy's shoulder again. He flinched slightly at the contact, and handed over another donut wordlessly. Yum. Chocolate.

But the Pegasus thought about the boy's words rather than immerse himself in the sugary goodness. _So he's having troubles with the sun dude's kids too,_ he thought with a sniff. _But he sounds more…hopeful than irritated. Is he feeling guilty for sneaking away from this "Will" guy?_

Blackjack looked at Nico as he brooded in silence, a donut chunk held forgotten in his fingers. He remembered the boy from the war not a week ago—thin, ragged, tired, and wearing a disgustingly loud shirt that was most certainly _not_ his. And now when he looked at him, he saw how much those two days in the infirmary had helped him. His thin body had grown out a little, his skin no longer transparent and always on the edge of fading entirely, his hair no longer a scraggly mess, his clothes no longer hanging off of him in rags. He looked _healthier_.

Whatever that sun dude kid had done for Nico, it was helping dramatically.

_So there are actually _two_ things those kids can do right,_ Blackjack mumbled to himself, just as he heard calling in the distance. His ears pricked, but Nico didn't react, as though he hadn't heard. He probably hadn't. After all, a Pegasus' ears were far more sensitive than even the quietest of brooding demigods.

With another bump to the son of Hades' shoulder, Blackjack stood.

Nico blinked up at him in confusion. "Where are you going?" he asked.

Blackjack flicked a wing to where he was hearing the shouting. It was another male's. That boy Will?

Nico frowned as he looked in the direction the black Pegasus had pointed. Then he shook his head. "I don't know what you're trying to tell me," he sighed, standing. "But whatever. I guess I trust you enough for it to be important."

If Blackjack could have smiled, he would have been outright _grinning_ by that point. He slapped the boy playfully with his tail, and went trotting off in the direction of the voices despite the half-hearted outraged cry of the son of the death god behind him as he ran to keep up.

Blackjack shook out his wings and glanced over his shoulder at Nico, and whinnied loudly, joyfully, and full of even more relief than he could have hoped to put in one little sound.

Because no matter what happened next—he could already sense the gods stirring up trouble again with some foreign power source and the sun dude—he had a new friend by his side, one that could become even closer to him than even his boss, and a box full of donuts that would never run out because, _gods of Olympus_, his new boss Nico di Angelo seemed to enjoy them almost as much as he did. He was still carrying said box even as they left the forest and were found by the campers.

He had sensed it back when his father and family had arrived to the three lone fighters dragging a forty-foot statue across the country. Gods—_Guido_ had sensed it. That they were going to have to move on from the boss, the retired two-time hero, to the next heroes of Olympus and the world.

And so Blackjack had stood by Nico's side during that war, even though he could sense his boss returning to camp, and made sure the boy knew that he was there for him, and later stayed with Reyna to prove to him that he was leaving his trusted partner in good hands—erm, _wings_.

Because a rider did not choose his Pegasus. Guido chose Reyna, and so Blackjack chose Nico.

And their friendship had blossomed from an offering of smuggled donuts.

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**Merry Christmas!**

**~FaiKazahaya**


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